


WELCOME TO DETROT

by Caligraphunky



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:58:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caligraphunky/pseuds/Caligraphunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dutch's attempts to paint a masterpiece are thwarted by Texas' constant distractions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WELCOME TO DETROT

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously cannot believe I forgot to put this one up for so long.

“Look, why don’t you go into your room to do that?”   
  
This was the third time in ten minutes that Texas’ coughing had jerked Dutch out of the creative trance he had maintained for a good six hours so far, and the taller Burner’s voice had taken on an annoyed edge that only someone who was completely oblivious could miss.  
  
So of course, Texas barely looked up from the weight he was rhythmically pumping. “Well,  _duh_! I can’t watch if I go to my room, at least until you make those x-ray goggles we talked about.” He said it flatly with a slight exasperation, as though it was an indisputable fact that silly ol’ Dutch had forgotten.  
  
“OK,” Dutch turned fully around from his canvas and glared at Texas from behind his ventilator, “One! We never talked about any x-ray goggles. Two! I told you you’d need a mask down here ‘cause I’d be working with spray paint. And three?  _Stop staring at me._  You’re making me lose my flow!”  
  
Texas let the weight clatter to the ground and Dutch winced at the noise before whipping back around to the giant sheet of metal he had covered in paint, rolling his eyes when he was sure his teammate couldn’t see him. He’d have to do his best to ignore Texas. Dutch closed one eye to get a focused view of what he still needed to work on and raised the paint brush slowly to the canvas, losing himself in thought once again.  
  
It was going to need some detail work on the buildings…he raised the can of paint to the canvas and edged his hand closer, putting his other hand on his elbow to steady it. Slowly and carefully, his finger twitching on the trigger…and…  
  
“You know what that needs?!” Dutch jumped and yelped, dropping the paint, as Texas slung a conciliatory arm around him. “Robots! C’mon, it’s Motorcity, it’s not complete without Texas and the Burners, trashin’ some Kanebots with our awesome roof-mounted mace-beams!” He shoved away from Dutch and launched into some ridiculous karate moves Dutch knew he’d seen in a movie once because he and Texas had watched it about 20 times.  
  
“I’m not putting any mace-beams in this and I’m not building them for you either,” Dutch mumbled, cutting off what he knew was the next question, then stepped back to reclaim his artistic focus.  
  
What Dutch had painted was quieter than his usual work, it was true, and darker, but the scene that inspired this particular piece was etched into his brain, and it was all just a matter of bringing it to the canvas: A giant cityscape, painted in blues and purples and whites, tinted yellow in some places, green in others and blanketed in an eerie uneasy silence, like it was in the eye of a hurricane. The centerpiece of the scene, the forest-green Welcome to Detroit sign, acted almost like a warning half hidden by darkness. Dutch had found the scene on accident, right after an attack from Kane had driven them to the very outskirts of Motorcity.  
  
There was no way he wasn’t going to paint it.  
  
Texas was back hanging on his shoulder, he realized, and studying Dutch’s work intently. His chin was resting on his hand with his lips pursed in a “thinking” pose.  
  
It didn’t fool Dutch in the least.  
  
“It’s good,” Texas finally nodded approval, pulling back and clapping Dutch’s shoulder.  
  
Dutch sighed. “Just’ good’, huh?”  
  
“Well, not as good as Texas could do. See all that empty road down there? Take it from Texas: that’s the  _perfect_  place to paint all our cars trashing the giant fire-spewing Kanebot!”  
  
“What giant Kanebot?”  
  
“The one that should be climbing up on the buildings and getting destroyed by our awesome weapons and my sweet face-kicks!”   
  
“…Really.”  
  
“Yeah, you should totally put that in too.”  
  
Dutch plucked Texas’ arm off his shoulder, grabbing his sleeve between his thumb and forefinger like one might remove a giant spider, and went to retrieve his paint.  
  
“Also, you forgot the ‘I’ in ‘Detroit.’”  
  
Dutch stopped in mid-bend.   
  
“…I what?”  
  
Indeed, the giant sign, the focus of the painting and the whole reason it existed in the first place, proclaimed to the entire world:  
  
“WELCOME TO DETROT”  
  
Dutch stared at it for a few painful seconds before standing up and throwing his mask down where the can of paint lay. “I’m going to bed.”  
  
Texas watched him climb the stairs leading up to the counter for a few moments before following behind. He was no longer, to Dutch’s surprise, speaking in a voice one might use to placate an angry puppy who’d chewed a hole in its toy. He actually sounded sincere.  
  
“Aw, Dutch, don’t be upset. Other than that really stupid mistake and all the awesome stuff you’re missing, it looks great!”  
  
Well, it was still sincere. Dutch’s heart wasn’t into it though.  
  
“You’re just saying that,” he mumbled, as he rounded the corner and entered his room.  
  
“Nah, I mean it.” Texas said, following.  
  
Dutch sat on his bed, before laying back to listen to the purr of Roth’s engines and drift off to sleep. “Thanks,” he said with a smile, and closed his eyes.  
  
“Anytime,” said Texas, climbing into bed with him.  
  
Dutch’s eyes were open again. “…Uh, what’re you doing?”  
  
“Shhhh…” said Texas, putting a finger over Dutch’s lips as he snuggled in close, wrapping his other arm around Dutch’s waist. “It’s OK. Daddy Texas understands.”  
  
Dutch didn’t trust himself to speak…but only because it was too late at night to start yelling without waking the other Burners.  
  
“You’ll just paint over it in the morning,” said Texas, dropping his other arm to join around Dutch. “In fact, why don’t I just go fix it for you? I’ll paint over the sign and add in all the stuff you-”  
  
“Texas?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Why don’t you just stay here? I’ll…I’ll fix it tomorrow.”  
  
“Can do! And I’ll supervise you so you don’t forget anything.”

Dutch groaned and buried half his face in the pillow, while Texas patted his chest.  
  
“Heh heh…It’s what I’m here for, Dutch. No need to thank me!”  
  
“ _Good_.”


End file.
